


Holiday Shift

by AngryGayFriend



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Dinner, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Interrogation, M/M, Surveillance, Texting, Torture, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:23:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2855696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngryGayFriend/pseuds/AngryGayFriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian gets the short end of the stick working on Christmas eve, alone, in the cold. Thankfully, his boss is willing to lighten the mood and reward a job well done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mince Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> About a paragraph in, I imagined Sebastian as black and I couldn't unsee it.

Sebastian was fucking cold. He sucked down cigarette smoke for all the warmth he could get as he sat on the roof, surveillance equipment running and his sniper at the ready just in case. James had given explicit instructions to keep it all hands off this time around, just bug the woman's house, take the pictures, keep the binoculars pointed her way. The sniper was for insurance—maybe he just wasn't used to doing a job for James that didn't involve setting it up, or maybe he just had a bad feeling about this one, but he knew it paid to be prepared and one could never be over-armed when it came to Moriarty jobs.

She was having a Christmas party, of course. Because that was what sane people did on Christmas Eve, sit by the fire, sip mulled wine and spiced rum, maybe put on a record and try to dance. Growing up, he never cared much for his parents holiday parties where he'd be forced to put on his most uncomfortable boysuit and be nice to all the adults his mother talked shit about once they left. Now, compared to freezing his ass off on this roof, he could see the appeal.

_"I want next Christmas off"_ he texted to his boss before lighting up another cigarette. _"Consider this my official notice."_

He snapped pictures of dignitaries coming to the party, ministers and ambassadors foreign and domestic, while he waited for a response.

_"Ha! That's cute. ;) "_

He huffed, _"I'm serious."_

_"I know, that's why it's cute."_

He rolled his eyes, returning to the scope and snapping a few more pictures as the penthouse filled with nearly every major political player in London.

His phone buzzed again not a minute later: _"But what did I say about asking questions you already know the answer to?"_

Sebastian sighed, stubbing the cigarette out on the parapet. _"Figured it was worth a shot."_

_"Were you looking for an excuse to text me? Are you getting lonely this Christmas?"_

_"Hardly."_

_"Poor bb :( "_

Sebastian sighed, again, and pulled out his makeshift Christmas dinner for the evening (he'd been trailing the target since she started preparing for her holiday dinner). Usually, he wouldn't bother. Sebastian was used to going days without eating anyways, and when he was on a mission, worrying about bodily functions was too distracting for most Moriarty jobs; the unexpected was ordinary and the last thing he wanted was to be fighting for his life with a biscuit hanging out of his mouth. But even he wasn't immune to holiday spirit and the store bought mince pies were actually pretty good.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed again with a snapchat this time.

Jim was smiling in a leather apron butcher's gloves, his goggles spattered with blood. The victim was limp tied to the chair, too much blood to really tell just who the poor sap was, but he did have a delightful santa hat on. _"only losers r alone on xmas"_

Well, how could he not respond to an insult like that?

He took a big bite of one of the pies and turned to half-face the light of the street so it wouldn't come out entirely dark. He snapped the photo (it only took 3 tries) then attached _, "only losers hv no mince on xmas"_ before sending it off.

It didn't take long to get a response. _"jelous i hv a hot date? #notsry"_ The image was graphic to say the least. Essentially it was a double noose--one traditional tied around the victim's neck and probably strung up somewhere, the other was fine wire, looping around the back of the neck and the noose around the shaft of the target's dick. If he leaned his head back too far, would've cleaved it (or at least cut off enough circulation he'd definitely lose it). But if he leaned his neck too far forward, he'd strangle himself. It was a special brand of cruelty only Jim Moriarty could pull off in proper ratios to keep the poor man in sustained agony instead of killing him outright.

Sebastian looked back through the binoculars and it dawned on him just what kind of party this was. He detached the sniper scope and held it right up to the phone lens and sent it off.

 

\---

 

Jim was having an absurdly good Christmas. He was never one for roasting chestnuts on shit, so this was his version of a great holiday. Would it be better with Sebastian by his side? Maybe. But he could still tease him from afar, regardless.

Just as he was reaching for the drill now, his phone buzzed. He couldn't help but smile when he saw this one: _"mine's hotter #notsorryboutit"_ the partygoers were beginning to strip down and get to the real business.

Jim got a new idea and set the drill back down.

 

\---

 

Old people sex was just depressing to watch, as far as Sebastian was concerned. Good for them, gettin' it with the many prostitutes who had come in soon after they’d all assembled, but it's not something he'd be checking out on pornhub any time soon. He was lighting up another cigarette when Jim's next one came in, this time it was a snapchat story.

The nooses were gone now, and it was a close up of the man's face. Seb guessed Jim had tried to make him look all sexual, but he just looked completely out of it. _"So thirsty ;)"_ Then... _"All hydrated :D_ " Jim was pouring gasoline down his throat.

Sebastian snorted at that; Jim had a way with 31 characters and 5 seconds. He checked back through the binoculars--a lot was happening, no doubt. But before he could think of a funny caption, another snapchat came.

_"my date is officially hotter"_ with the man fully on fire now.

Well shit, Sebastian actually laughed a bit at that one. He had officially been bested by James Moriarty, there was absolutely no follow up to that one.

_"I concede defeat boss,"_ he sent with a picture of his hands up, phone balanced on the other surveillance equipment.

He didn't get a response for a while, figured Jim was probably cleaning up his mess. So he sat around, keeping the camera trained on high definition dirty details and finishing up his 6-pack of pies.

About twenty minutes (and two pies) later, he heard... something up the steps to the roof. Of course, taking snapchats and eating was bound to get someone on his tail, even an amateur who let themselves be heard coming up the steps. At this distance, best bet was the glock, so he coolly pocketed the memory card from the camera and pulled the gun out his holster and cocked it at the ready.

The door opened, to just dark and shadow. His trigger finger tightened as the silence dragged on. Even with a silencer on the gun, he didn't want to shoot unnecessarily and draw even more attention to himself.

"Boo."

"Damnit, James," he gasped, "of course you try to give me a bloody heart attack."

 "Oh please, so melodramatic," he laughed, stepping out of the dark and onto the roof, heading over to Sebastian.

Sebastian took a breath as he put the memory card back in the camera, refocused the telephoto lens, and set it up again with the automatic firing. Jim took the opportunity to hug him from behind, "I came to collect my spoils of snapchat war."

"And just what would those be?" He asked, one hand running over Jim's, the other still fiddling with the camera.

He pulled away and grabbed the minces from the parapet, "How much longer is this sexcapade going, tiger?"

"I'd guess only another hour or so. There's only so much viagra one can pop."

Jim picked up the binoculars and took a big bite of the pie, "You would be surprised..."

“Is your date all taken care of?"

"Naturally."

"Naturally, eh…?” He reached out to swipe at the bit of blood still on Jim's cheek, which--to his surprise--he actually let him. "Hm."

"What?" Jim asked, setting the binoculars down.

"I thought you'd chop my arm off or something. Usually you touch me, not the other way around."

"I know you're not stupid enough to try to hurt me. Don't insult my intelligence with yours."

"Of course, of course," he chuckled, taking the last pie. "My apologies."

A silence settled for a few moments before Jim just sighed, "This is boring. Old sex is boring. The blonde one there with the American there, she's faked at least five orgasms already, each less believable than the last. That's boring."

"Yep," Sebastian said, watching his phone and smoking again.

Jim groaned, like the little kid he might as well be. "You bugged the apartment itself, right? Audio and visual?"

"Mhm," he didn't look up from his game of candy crush.

 "Then pack your shit up, we'll just use the in-room surveillance in case anything else happens."

 Sebastian gave a nod as he started getting everything back in their proper cases. "What's got you so impatient?"

 "The holiday spirit," he said with a smile. "Put it all in the car, I've got an idea."

 


	2. Cereal Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is pure goddamn fluff and i don't even care.

The car dropped them off on Brick by up by Allen Gardens. Sebastian left his sniper in the trunk of the car but he was far from unarmed as he got out of the car and closed the door behind his boss. Jim breathed deep, a big waft of steam floating up into the cold air. "Be a dear and pick the lock, Seb," he smiled, gesturing to the shop's door.

Sebastian did as he was told, pulling the tool card he keeps in his wallet and efficiently getting it open with a couple flicks of his wrist. It swung open into the empty cafe.

"Jim, what's this about? You've got the munchies and didn't want to just stop at Tesco?"

He rolled his eyes and pushed past Sebastian, getting out of the cold and taking his coat off before flicking on a couple lights. "I wanted cereal, so I'm getting cereal."

"We have cereal at home," He frowned as he followed in, shutting the door behind. The cafe itself was brightly colored with every box of imported cereal and old favorites lining the walls. Jim opened the fridge and found all kinds of milk, and a few other surprises to top off the food. It looked a bit like a coffee cafe and a bit like your mom's retro kitchen from the 70's she meant to update after having you. Sebastian slowly peeled off his coat, still looking around the place when he heard Jim gasp behind the counter.

Instantly he went into defensive mode and rushed around the counter, reaching for his gun, "Jim, what?"

"They have _just_ marshmallows," he bawked, showing Sebastian the container filled to the brim with picked through lucky charms.

His hand fell to his side as he relaxed, "Is this your idea of Christmas dinner?"

He shrugged, fishing out a bowl and some milk, "I saw an opportunity."

"For Christmas dinner?"

"This place is kitsch and not in a good way," he said matter-of-factly as he poured the marshmallow bits into a bowl, "it piques my interest, but not enough to go in broad daylight when I have much more important things to do and places to eat."

"James Moriarty, the one and only, has a reputation to uphold, of course," Sebastian agreed as he plucked a couple from the container. "No one can know your horrible secret that you actually like breakfast like all other people on the planet."

"Oh please, Sebastian, since when have I been people?"

Sebastian shrugged, going to pick out his own box now, "Weren't you a kid too at some point? You were 'people' back then, right?"

James snorted almost choking on his cereal for a fleeting second. He fixed Sebastian with a hard look, "Hardly."

Sebastian glanced back at him over his shoulder and smirked, this was too easy and too amusing, "So you never had Fruity Yummy Mummy?" He pulled the vintage box off the shelf, "Shit, Jim, did you get bullied as a kid over that? For having uncool cereal? Is that why you're so into those marshmallows?"

That crooked smile was back on his pale face as he chomped away, "Tiger, you have no idea. Trust me, I basically ran my primary school."

"As the creepy kid everyone was afraid of? Oh fuck, I loved sugar smacks," he said as he reached for the box.

"Ah, what the hell, it's Christmas after all," Jim said muttered to himself before speaking up again, "My brother used to steal the marshmallows out of the box the night before and then pour it all back for us in the morning. So I never got them as a kid."

Sebastian stared at him for a second, not expecting some actual candor out of the Irishman. "Brother?"

"Sadly," he shrugged.

"You never told me you had a brother."

"Well, he's not nearly as fun as me," he smiled. "Didn't want to bore you with him."

"Shouldn't you be spending Christmas with him them?"

"The last thing I want to do is visit my brothers on Christmas, Sebastian," he said as if annoyed by their presence already. "And, what of you and Severin, eh?"

"Point taken," he said as he pulled up a stool to the counter Moriarty sat and made a bowl for himself. "Brothers?"

"Don't repeat that."

"Never do."

"Honey, you are lucky you've got that jawline or I'd cut it clean off so you wouldn't talk about them ever again."

He chuckled, digging into his food for a minute. Before, inevitably, asking, "So what are their names?"

"Last thing I want to do at Christmas is talk about my family, tiger."

"Yes, but I'm still curious."

"Guess, if you're so curious then."

"Richard."

"Don't be stupid, I pay you to be better than that."

Fuck was Jim cute when he got mean like that. "David. Joseph. Sean. Connor. Seamus. Eoin. Patrick."

"Jesus, Seb," he grimaced, looking up from his cereal, "At least put some effort into it."

"Jack."

"You get one more guess, you're getting annoying now."

"Must be close then," he said looking into his cereal as if it contained the answer. "John?"

He shook his head, licking the sugared milk off his spoon. "I'll tell you because you did a good job tonight, but I wasn't kidding about that jaw of yours," he warned as if Sebastian didn't already know Jim was never just joking, "Jay and Jamie."

"Okay, now you're shitting me," he smiled. "Were your parents just the laziest fucks on the planet?"

"No, dear, that would be your parents."

"Oof, low blow," he said still smiling. "That's probably the tamest secret I've found out about you though. And if it's any consolation, you are officially my favorite James Moriarty."

Despite himself, Jim also smiled back like the goddamn idiot in something-resembling-love he may or may not have been, "I get that a lot."

Was it the best Christmas Sebastian has had? After the snow started up and they finally got back home as the sun peaked over the Thames, James sat in his usual armchair for just a second before falling asleep as Sebastian was taking off his shoes; after Seb, too, fell asleep at the foot of the chair, head on Jim's lap and sharing the only really warm blanket in the apartment; after the next morning, with a damn good brunch in a new suit with a new vintage gun that Jim swore were not Christmas presents; after Jim's eyes lit up even if he refused to smile like a normal fucking person when he saw his (confirmed) Christmas gift: a new installed speaker system all through the apartment with a Sebastian-curated playlist; after it all, Sebastian figured this Christmas might just squeak into number 1. Freezing rooftop, tortureporn, and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the canon has a colonel james moriarty, professor james moriarty, and a younger station master moriarty (don't think he has a first name attached). wouldn't it be horrible if all three were named james? what i'd give to be a fly on that wall. what i'd also give to eat at Cereal Killer, the actual cereal cafe in London they break into.


End file.
